Miss Calvert
by Abby Normal
Summary: ~*~COMPLETED~*~ An alternative interstice to 'The Unsinkable Rose Dawson' - It makes sense without reading URD, but just as a warning there's a few spoilers here and there.
1. Chapter One

February 24, 1945   
  
Sarah Calvert strolled down wet Philadelphia streets. The sky above was gray and overcast. Her lazy golden curls had now matted themselves against her face. The cold winter rain was chilling her to the bone.   
She was in Philadelphia visiting a teammate and friend of hers. Sarah was the centerfielder for the South Bend Blue Sox and the only batter in the league that stood an easy chance against Racine pitcher Kit Keller. And for that teammates and fans called her 'Lucky 13.'   
During the off-season she spent time with her family and traveled when she could afford to. Last year, since she lived in Indiana, she went not far to Cedar Rapids and visited her old neighborhood briefly. She had vague memories of the old house she and her family had lived in. It was small and crammed and they moved when she and her younger brother were still toddlers. When she saw it again it looked even smaller.   
But today she was in Philly: a big and exciting city. Her father had grown up in New Jersey, not from New York City. Sarah had spent most of her childhood years in Maine, so to her Bar Harbor seemed crowded. And this city, Philadelphia, was where her mother had grown up.   
She wanted to look for a house, but she had no idea where in the city her mother had lived, no address, not even a clue as to what area it might be in. Oh well.   
*Where am I?* She thought. She searched for a street sign. "East River Drive." This street was full of old, elegant houses and far from the center of the city. This was definitely not where Ann lived. But she had time to spare. She didn't have to be at Ann's until dinner.   
She brought her new camera with her and promised her brother, Charlie she'd take pictures of Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell. And her mother told her to go see Fairmount Park, a favorite place of hers as a child. She hadn't done any of those yet. But she had managed to get a few souvenirs for her family and friends, including a Cab Calloway record for Charlie.   
Charlie was brilliant piano player and a music expert. He was *the* authority on jazz, which, along with baseball, was religion to their parents. Charlie was also the biggest Cab Calloway fanatic she had ever known. The only record of his he didn't have was 'Get With Cab.' When she saw it in the window of the record store she went in and got it for him.   
She had everyone on her list checked off except for her mother. She needed to get something extra special for her. It was her birthday today, her fiftieth in fact.   
*I should really find myself a map. I might be lost.* Just then 'Get With Cab' flew out her hands and rolled through a gate of one of the old houses. She reached for the record as she put her arm through metal bars. The gate creaked open with the pressure of her arm and swung out towards her.   
She went through and picked up the record. Fortunately, it wasn't damaged. Only the paper bag was soaked, but the cover was a little wet. She really shouldn't have been carrying it in her hands. *How foolish of me.* She stuffed it into her bag.   
After that she stepped back a few feet back on to the sidewalk to get a better look at the property. It was old and run-down. It hadn't been taken care of in years, but the house was so grand and stately it must have been, she supposed the most beautiful estate in all of Philadelphia in its hay day. But it seemed no one occupied it now. It couldn't hurt to take a peek. *I wonder who must've lived here.* Before re-entering she looked at the sign outside on the wall. "Property of Hockley Steel Co." She lifted it up to find another sign, one engraved in gold. "DeWitt Bukater." She felt the letters, letting her fingers dance over the words.   
Sarah entered through the gates once more. Instead of walking into the house she instead went around into the yard.   
The yard seemed to open up before her. There was an adventure to be had here. She was the intrepid explorer and she had discovered the lost city. The flowers and the bushes in the gardens left unattended had taken over the entire property like a great forest in fantasy book. Yes, a fantasy book. *This must be what Neverland looks like on a rainy day.* Or The Secret Garden. Her mother had read her that book countless times. Now she had discovered her own secret garden. In the distance, to her left she could see the old carriage house.   
And all around her, majestic gardens, stone pathways, ornate gazebos, tall trees, a river at the land's end, and the beauty of lives and loves long since forgotten. It reminded her of her mother in a way. Her presence was always accompanied by some great joy or great sadness. Sometimes both.   
She flung out her arms and ran through the yard, as if in the climax of some Broadway musical. She felt free. There was magic here, it liberated her. She found some nameless solace here. There was no more war, no more spring training, no more of Mom and Dad heckling her to go back to school, no more responsibilities, worries, no more waiting for her childhood sweetheart to propose and it was about time too, she was twenty-one and he was twenty for Pete's sake. And definitely no more having to be an adult.   
When she came to end of her romp she stopped at a wall of bushes separating the main yard from that of the carriage house. She found an open hole into the bushes and crawled through.   
It was not just hole, but a room almost. She could fit herself comfortably inside, but she gathered it was meant to fit several small children. She stayed there for several minutes and then emerged. Instead of going to carriage house, she meandered over to a majestic and grand weeping willow by the river's edge.   
It's branches hung like curtains concealing the enclosure within. She separated the dangling branches and entered.   
This was an estate of its own. Nearly the size of her house back in Maine. Some of the limbs dipped into the water making a section like a pool. She gazed at her reflection in the water. She looked very much like the old pictures of her mother when she was younger, except Sarah was blonde with brown eyes.   
Hanging from a thicker branch was a swing. Above the swing something caught Sarah's eye. It was white. She climbed up to reach.   
She touched it. A wet taffeta bow that was tattered and worn by age. It was also slightly disgusting, probably from being weathered on for years. It was also obscenely large, most assuredly meant to be worn by a child, but it was very big and imposing. Strangely enough it had not been torn off. It appeared to have been strategically placed there and shoved in one of the hooks holding up the swing by some little girl who did not wish to wear such a gaudy thing.   
Sarah laughed when she pictured a little girl doing such a thing, quite understandably, but still amusing all the same.   
Next she climbed back down and went to the swing. She wanted to try it out, but she feared it would break. She moved it carefully. No creaks or cracks. Then she began to sit down, gingerly at first, and then put her full weight on it. It still held strong after all these years.   
This was a most extraordinary swing. Perfect and smooth in the air. When all the way back she touched one side of the tree's branches, when all the way forward she touched other.   
"Wee! I'm flying!" She giggled. And she continued to swing back and forth above the earth.   
After a long time she finally brought it to a stop. It was the longest time she had spent on a swing in years.   
Now she was really starting to get cold. She grabbed her bag and left the tree.   
She headed for the house now. She walked up through the gardens and pathways again and through the patio and on to the back porch, which stretched the entire backside of the mansion.   
She entered the house quietly and crept through. It was warm inside. Someone had a fire going not long ago. She wandered through several rooms until she got to the center. It was a large front room with an enormous crystal chandelier and an even more enormous curving grand staircase. This room was at least twice the size of her home in Maine.   
"Holy Smokes. Look at this place. It's absolutely titanic." As if on impulse she clapped her mouth shut just after the words left her mouth. Something was stirring upstairs. She was not alone.   
Did someone still live here? She *was* trespassing. Or was it some other trespasser? Someone dangerous? She pondered leaving, but decided against. Something was keeping her here.   
She resolved to go upstairs and find out. So what if there was some escaped criminal hiding up there waiting to take advantage of her? She could take him. *Let's see him play double headers, play with broken bones, bruises, and strawberries, and get hit with fly balls and still stand.*   
So with that Lucky Thirteen herself marched up the long flight of stairs. She reached the top and veered right. She tiptoed down the hall. "Hello?" Her voice faltered. No answer.   
There was a light at the very end of the corridor. She crept towards it. Once she was close she stopped. The door was open wide enough for her to see in at an angle. It was a nursery. There was a little cradle, a rocking horse, and a doll carriage with a little doll sleeping peacefully inside. That was all she could see so she walked to the door and peered in.   
A figure in the far corner of the room sat in a lavish armchair in front of the fire. She moved her body closer to the entrance. The door creaked and the figure's head slowly turned to look.   
The red-orange flames danced off of young Sarah's face illuminating her physiognomies. Sarah could not see the strange being in the chair, it still hid in the shadows.   
"Oh I umm." Sarah uttered trying think of some sort of defense or excuse.   
"Rose…?" Whispered an old woman's voice.


	2. Chapter Two

The old woman slowly rose from her chair and picked up her cane. She began to creep over to the girl. She was old, her back was hunched and she seemed to have difficulty walking, but there was a certain grace to her movements.   
Sarah's back was pressed to the wall. She could tell this lady was weak and harmless, but she was terrified of her for reasons unknown.   
Once the woman reached her and they stood face-to-face she stopped. But it was not so much face-to-face as it was face to chest. The younger woman, nearly six feet, towered over her elder.   
The stranger looked up at Sarah and gestured for her to come lower. Sarah bent her knees to shorten herself, slow at first and then faster until she was at the same level as her companion.   
The woman perused her face as if in search of answers. She looked at her hair and frowned. She let go of her wet blonde locks, leaving them to fall at her shoulders once more. Sarah dared not breathe.   
"No…" sighed the woman. "I knew you could not be." She placed her index finger just below Sarah's eye. "And the eyes…she had eyes like the ocean." She stared hard into the girl's intense eyes. The girl's brown, soulful eyes stared right back at her.   
The woman turned away and stalked back to her chair. She sunk back into her chair, disappearing into it. She shook her head and smiled.   
Sarah fell the rest of the way to the floor and remained there for several moments then got up to leave.   
"I'm sorry for disturbing you. I was just lost and cold and it looked like no one was here…I'm very sorry I'll leave."   
"Very well." Replied the woman. The moment Sarah went for the door handle the woman spoke again. "What is your name?"   
Sarah left her duffel bag by the door and walked to the far end of the room to the old woman, but she still kept her distance. "My name is Sarah. Sarah Calvert."   
"So tell me Ms. Calvert. Where are you supposed to be?"   
"Second Street. But I don't have to be there for a few hours."   
"You were traveling on Girard Avenue to get there?"   
"Yes."   
"You went west. Second Street is a few miles east of here."   
"Oh thank you…I'm sorry again for disturbing you."   
"That's of no matter. It's nice to have company. Please sit down if you chose to stay. We'll talk awhile. Any topic, except the weather, that is a most dreadful subject on any occasion." Sarah grabbed a stool and dragged it over to the woman. She had broken into her house, she should at least do as she asks. "I'm all alone here, you see. I have but one servant, she's the only one that stayed."   
"You have only one servant in this entire house?"   
"Yes, but Suzanne is mad, that's why she puts up with me." Sarah said nothing. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"   
"I'm just not sure what to say."   
"You're young and healthy. I should imagine you would have plenty to say. Aren't young people supposed to be outspoken?"   
"Some are. I am sometimes."   
"I knew a girl very much like you once." She took a good look at the girl's face again. "Very much like you. She made it a point always to be outspoken. She was obdurate. Very much so. She always loved to make rude comments at dinner…preferably in front of a lot of people, and usually at someone else's expense."   
"Oh."   
"She liked to…expose people. She was very good at it. And she usually got   
away with it."   
"How?"   
"She was much smarter than the rest of us."   
"What happened to her?"   
The woman sighed and paused for a long time. "She died…" She pursed her lips. "…when she was young…very young."   
"…Oh…I-I'm very sorry to hear that."   
"It's not your fault." The woman got up and walked over to an adult-sized bed. "Fifty years ago today I was in this very room on this very bed, giving birth to that girl."   
Sarah looked at her companion, her sympathetic eyes unwavering. "How old you are Miss Sarah?"   
"I'm twenty-one M'am."   
"Ah. Rose…my Rose, was only seventeen when she passed on. She was an unhappy girl, very unhappy. So was I. We were miserable together. And even more miserable after we lost her father. But she did find happiness for short moment in time. Then she died. The last time I ever saw her she was furious with me. I just hope she found what she was looking for." Sarah got up from her stool to join her new friend. "Do have you both your parents Sarah?"   
"Yes."   
"Are they good to you? I know that's very personal question, but please answer truthfully."   
"Yes, they're the best I could ask for."   
"Then take care of yourself. They need you. They need you more than you need them whether you're with them or not."   
"I will."   
The woman spoke again after a beat. "When you walked in the room I thought you were my Rose. You look and sound so much like her it's uncanny."   
"People look like each other I guess. I've been mistaken for my mother a lot. And my neighbor Emily, looks like Elizabeth Taylor, only older. Actually there's an old picture of her that looks exactly like 'National Velvet.' But she's not related to her or anything."   
"Yes, I guess it does happens sometimes."   
"Oh no!" Sarah remembered something.   
"What is it?"   
"I left my suitcase outside…" Sarah didn't want to tell her she had been all over the yard.   
"Well then. You'd best go get it."   
"I'll be right back. I promise Mrs…"   
"DeWitt Bukater. Mrs. Ruth DeWitt Bukater."   
Sarah just nodded. She would never remember that one unless she saw it written down.   
She hurried out through the halls, down the stairs, and out into the yard. It was raining even harder now. She went back to the tree and retrieved her suitcase. *What am I doing? Did she see me here before? No, that's not possible, every window in that nursery is covered.* She walked back to the house questioning everything. She should stay and keep this poor woman company for a little while, but something was not quite right here.   
She found herself back in the nursery again soaking wet all over.   
"Sit down by the fire. You'll catch your death." Ruth motioned her young friend to the armchair by the fireplace. Sarah was uneasy at first. "Don't worry it'll dry. May I ask you one more question?"   
"Uh huh."   
"What on earth possessed you to go out like that?" Ruth was referring to what Sarah was wearing: a house dress and light jacket- which she had since discarded when she first came in. "It's freezing out!"   
"I don't get that cold."   
"And look at your dress now." Her bright red dress was not sopping and muddy.   
"I can wash it." Ruth shook her head. "You sound just like my mother."   
Just then someone else entered the room: a woman of about sixty. "Suzanne, didn't I tell you never to disturb me when I am in this room."   
Suzanne walked further into the room, ignoring her mistress. "I didn't know we had a visitor."   
Ruth sneered. Sarah rose from the chair to meet Suzanne and put out her hand. Ruth made had made her feel more at ease very quickly. "Hello I'm--" Suzanne backed away aghast.   
"She has come back!"   
"No Suzanne!"   
"She is the Angel of Death! See how she is wet. She has come back from the sea!" She pointed violently.   
"SUZANNE!" Sarah backed away. Suzanne came one step closer with every step Sarah took back. "Leave her alone Suzanne or I will see that Mrs. Christianson takes you away!"   
Sarah tripped over her suitcase and it flung open spilling its contents all over the room. Her clothes flew up into the air along with a baseball, a mit, and something else. It glittered in the air as it reflected the light from the fire until it fell at Ruth's feet.   
Suzanne, who was so sure of herself before, was puzzled now. Ruth stared down at the object on the floor. Suzanne then returned to Sarah who was now on her knees crawling for the door. "Miss Rose has come back!"   
"What is she talking about? I'm not her! It's not me!" Sarah scrambled to her feet and gave Ruth one more pleading look and left.   
Suzanne followed her down the hall. The faster Sarah walked the faster Suzanne did to catch up with her. Sarah began to run faster and faster until Suzanne was far behind. She was no match for Lucky Thirteen.   
But unfortunately for the star Blue Sock, this 'absolutely titanic' house was not infinite. She slammed into the wall and collapsed onto the floor.   
Staring up, all she could see was darkness. *What's happening? Why did I run?* A light came towards her after several moments of darkness. *Why is there no electricity?* It was Ruth. Suzanne was at the other end of the hall, half-hidden behind a door.   
The light from Ruth's lamp gradually revealed another young woman looking straight into her. It was a painting. She had blue-green eyes like the ocean and wild red curls as red as the dress Sarah wore. But with the same expression, that same wry smile in the corner of her mouth, it could only be one person.   
Sarah was breaking a sweat, she tried to speak at first, but she was breathing to fast. "That's my mother." 


	3. Chapter Three

"That's my mother." Sarah repeated. She waited for Ruth to respond, but no response came. Sarah stared up at the painting in awe. No it couldn't be a mistake, it was her. *Mom.* Still lying on the floor she propped herself up with one elbow and now pointed her finger. "My mother."  
Ruth bent down to the girl and tugged her arm, signaling her to rise. Sarah did so and Ruth led her back to the nursery.  
"Come." Sarah tried to study Ruth's face. There was something there she could not read. Did she know something? Did she want to find out something? This was a life much more complicated than her own.   
Ruth led young Sarah back into the nursery and ordered Suzanne to her room. Suzanne slowly stalked off.  
Sarah huddled in the old armchair and brought her chin to her knees. "I don't understand."  
Ruth looked hard at the familiar looking girl. "I just might." Ruth clutched her shawl and pulled 'round a rocking chair. Sarah turned the chair to face Ruth. "look at me, Sarah."  
"I'm looking."  
"Answer every question I ask truthfully and frankly. We both have many unanswered questions looming over our heads, mine have there for quite some time. Maybe yours have too."  
"Yes." Sarah nodded.  
"What is your mother's name?"  
"Rose."  
"And her maiden name?"  
"Dawson. It was Rose Cornelia Dawson."  
Ruth moved herself in her chair. "Dawson?"  
"Yes, Dawson."  
"Are you sure it was her maiden name, and not previously acquired from another marriage?"  
"Yes I'm sure…or I was sure. But I'm almost positive neither Mom or Dad were ever married before each other."  
"Is today your mother's birthday?"  
"Yes actually. She's fifty." Sarah remembered Ruth's words about giving birth to her little Rose fifty years ago this day.  
Ruth rose from her chair and moved to the bed where she picked a small picture frame. She gazed into it, shaking her head slowly, and spoke-not crying, but very sad. "Clever girl." Sarah recognized this behavior. When her mother was so overwhelmingly proud of either her or her brother she had the very same look in her eyes. "Very clever girl."   
"Mrs. DeWitt Bukater…" She remembered the name all too clearly now.  
"Sit down Sarah. I have story to tell and so do you. We will answer all our questions together. I'll tell you everything I know, you tell me everything you know."  
"Okay."  
"Sit back. Mine's a long one." She tossed Sarah the blanket that was hanging on the back of the rocking chair. "After my husband passed away he left the bank in quite a bit of debt. He only decided to mention this to me a few months before. We then began a desperate search for husband for our Rose. Someone who would be wealthy enough to cover up our secret, but also be willing to keep it at the same time. We found one: the son of Hank's old business partner and friend, Nathan Hockley. Hockley Steel was among the top in the nation let alone the world and Caledon was the oldest so he would take it over after Nathan. And they being an allied family would gladly keep the DeWitt Bukaters from falling to shame. And Rose being a gorgeous girl, Cal would gladly marry her. After Hank died from his heart disease Rose and Cal were already engaged. Rose generally disliked him. Rose was desperately unhappy without her father so we took her to London for a month. She loved London. She always said it was her favorite city. But when she got there she never wanted to go out or even leave her room. She even forgot her own birthday. She turned seventeen."  
"Actually that's as far back as Mom will go. She said she moved from Philly to New York when she was seventeen in the spring of 1912…after she lost her family. That's all she'd tell me about it that."  
"Well that's when decided to take her back home to America. In April 1912. She was our golden girl so we decided to get tickets for the Titanic and have her sail home on the most luxurious ship in the world."  
"Oh my God."  
"Well I told you she was unhappy didn't I?"  
"Yes."  
"One night she decided to take matters into her own hands. She decided to 'take a walk' one night after dinner. When the men brought her back to her cabin they all gave some bullshit story about how Rose was leaning over the back of the bow trying to see the propellers." Ruth shot Sarah a playful look. "What? You've never heard an old woman swear before?"  
"No very often." Sarah laughed, but then she became serious. "But wait. My mother tried to kill herself?"  
"Yes, but someone did pull her back after she 'slipped.'"  
"Who?"  
"A young man named Jack Dawson, he was about the same age as your mother, maybe a little older. To tell you the truth I never learned his exact age. Well since he saved her life we invited him to dinner, which I was vehemently against."  
"Why?"  
"He was a third class passenger without a dime to his name, and Rose took quite a liking to him. He was a very good artist apparently although I never got to see any of his work. At dinner I made it a point to insult him, challenge him, and try to make him a fool in my daughter's eyes, but he was no fool, or any sort of ruffian for that matter. He was nice-looking boy too. Tall, blond, if not a little skinny."   
"Did he wear his regular clothes?"  
"No he borrowed a nice tuxedo from a Mrs. Margaret Brown. Have you heard of her?"  
"Would that be the unsinkable Molly Brown?"  
"Yes it would. She took a liking to the boy too, but not nearly as much as Rose did."  
"I think I see where this is going."  
"You're right that's exactly where this is going. After dinner she disappeared with Jack for most of the night. Worried us to death, but she came back in one piece… Jack was a threat to me. He could take away my daughter from me, have her living on the streets-without Rose married to Cal I would be out on the streets."  
"Wait a minute. You're only talking about what? A few days? How could anything happen?"  
"Everything can happen in a few days. And anything can happen it a matter of seconds. She went back to see him the next day. She was gone from the late afternoon until close to midnight. She returned to the cabin to warn us of the iceberg. She came in hand and hand with Jack, not moving from his side. That image of the two of them standing there…it hurt. I knew there would be problems. We needed that marriage to survive, there would be nothing left of the DeWitt Bukaters. But if Cal still accepted her after it was obvious what she had 'done' she would never be happy again. Before Jack I deluded myself into thinking Rose would one day learn to love Cal. I fell out of love for her father, but at least I had loved him once. At first I felt like I was denying the chance that I had had. But she had found it and it was clear to me she intended to keep it no matter what Cal or I had to say."  
"Never underestimate Mom."  
"Well where words won't work action takes over. Cal, I later found out, had slipped the…" she paused and walked over to the spilled contents of Sarah's suitcase, "…had slipped *this* into young Jack's coat pocket." She bent down and picked it up.  
Sarah had to explain herself. "Yeah, I don't know what came over me. I just saw it and…I think I've turned into to Charlie, that's my little brother. He's a bit on the wild side, but anyway. It's like I'm a kleptomaniac. I see something pretty and I take it?"  
"Where did you find it?"  
"When I was cleaning up the attic. It was in this old trunk. I was just fascinated by it, that and this picture of Mom with Pancho Villa. Which is still a mystery to me too. I didn't expect my parents to own anything like that. Unless it's fake."  
"Oh it's not fake."  
"What is it a sapphire or something?"  
"No it's a diamond. A very rare diamond. Actually it's quite a famous one too. It was first owned by Louie the Sixteenth, and then once he 'lost his head' so to speak, it was cut into the shape you see it in now and made into a necklace. Nathan bought it for Cal to give to Rose as an engagement present." Ruth placed the diamond into Sarah's hand.   
"Wow."   
"It's even got a name, you know. 'La Coeur de la Mar,' The Heart of the Ocean."  
Sarah and Ruth both went back to they're respective seats. Sarah fiddled with the diamond. "This must be worth more than my parents ever made in their lifetimes."  
"What I want to know is how on Earth did your mother get her hands on it?"  
"Didn't Cal give it to her you said?"  
"Yes but he took it back after that."  
"That's right! What happened to Jack?"  
"Well they had him arrested and taken down the Master At Arms, it was on E-deck I believe."  
"Did you think Jack stole it? When it first happened I mean?"  
"I wasn't even thinking about it. I was thinking about Rose. What she had done. What I remember most was what Cal said to her. At first she tried to defend Jack, telling us there was no way he could have stolen it, that she was with him the whole time and then his exact words were: 'Maybe he did it while you were putting your clothes back on, dear.' How dare he talk that way to her! And in front of me no less, though he was probably worse when I wasn't around. I remember the way he used to look at her sometimes. He would smile as if he were assessing something. He would just look so damned pleased with himself. God knows what sort of disgusting thoughts he was thinking about my daughter. It was different from the way Jack looked at. He was very attracted to her yes, but it was different. He saw what I saw. He saw the potential in her that I was afraid to let loose. He wanted to let it loose. He loved her. Sometimes I wish I had gotten to know him better. I knew she loved him too. They way they looked at each other. I thought, a little time after that my daughter's innocence, not her physical innocence, but you know what I mean, would have been safer with Jack. He was certainly more age appropriate I thought."  
"How old was Cal?"  
"Not old, thirty. Rose was very grown up, and though she may have been sheltered all her life she was not naïve. Jack was the one who carried the air of innocence. But she was still a child. She was my child."  
"What happened to Jack?"  
"They took him away. Then Cal took us up to the lifeboats. Rose refused to get in after she realized Cal had framed Jack. She was furious. She left to go save the man she loved. The last thing she ever spoke to me she was very calm. Just 'Good bye Mother' and she was gone. I was already in the lifeboat and I couldn't stop her. The Hounds of Hell could not stop her. I screamed for her but she never came back. That was the last time I ever saw her."  
"Oh God." Sarah desperately wanted to know everything and was on the edge of her chair, but this story made her sad, not so much empathically either. This story was part of her life, even though it occurred twelve years before she was born. She looked sad the way Rose did, Ruth thought.   
"They never found either of them. I always had the little bit of hope they maybe she survived. I always wondered and prayed. Now I know it's true."  
"I guess so."  
"As for Jack, I assume he didn't make it. Poor boy. But maybe some memory of him is still within your mother."  
"I think it is." Sarah thought about her boyfriend. Jack. And his mother's maiden name. Dawson. There were more questions to be answered.   
"What does Rose do now?"  
"Now, she runs the Children's Theater in our hometown. Union, Maine. And she works as the school nurse at the elementary school."  
"She's a nurse?"  
"Yeah, she said she always wanted to have an education, that it gives you freedom of the mind, so she put herself through nursing school after she was working on and off in Hollywood. She was actress. But then right after she got her degree she put it to work."  
"So she started a career as a nurse? Where did she go work?" Now that she knew that her daughter was alive she wanted to know absolutely everything about her life. Her Rose was alive!   
"France. She was a nurse during the war. My dad was there too. He already knew her by then, but he said she had 'the magic touch,' she knew how to *really* heal people, and he said she carried this young kid who was twice her size to safety. Dad was the one who had all the medals and decorations, but he always said she was the real hero."  
"The war? She was in the *war*?" It had been over for a good quarter century now, but it still worried her.  
"Yes, she was Nurse Dawson."  
*Nurse Dawson. Nurse Rose Dawson.* Ruth kept repeating to herself.   
Her daughter was alive. She was a mother. A mother whose children loved her and admired her. Jack, the boy she had loved, was gone, but she had married a good man. A man that fathered this intelligent and beautiful young woman who stood before her now. Her granddaughter. She thought she'd never see grandchildren. Here was one right now. She had two grandchildren. Sarah, and Charlie was the boy. Sarah looked so much like Rose, it was uncanny, it was the same face.  
"How old is your brother? Tell me about him."   
"He's nineteen. He goes to Boden. He's a really smart little bastard. Pain in the butt though. He the best piano player I've ever heard and I'm not saying that because he's my brother. The kid has talent like I've never seen. But he thinks and acts like he's ten. But he's funny like my dad. Mom's pretty funny too, but not quite as funny as Dad. But don't tell her that."   
Ruth couldn't wait to not tell her that. But she remembered Rose as a girl. She was the only person with a sense of humor who was witty enough to use correctly. Ruth hated when good things were used badly. Rose knew how to be funny.   
"What does your father do? What's his name for starters?"  
"Dad," she laughed, her grandmother joined her after a beat once she realized she was kidding, "my dad's name is George. Used to be with police, he was a detective. He used to bust up the speaks back in the 20's and deal with other forms of organized crime. Yeah Mom was one of his spies, that's when they fell in love I think. Now he's a carpenter. Has his own business."  
Ruth was in a daze. She had mothered the twentieth century Renaissance woman.  
After several moments she spoke again. "What do *you* do, Sarah?"   
Sarah wasn't terribly self-centered by any stretch of the imagination, but she loved it when people asked her that. She loved talking baseball.  
"I'm a ball player."  
"A ball player?"  
"I'm in the A.A.G.B.L. I play center field for the South Bend Blue Sox."  
"Dear Lord."  
"Not very ladylike is it?"  
"No, but that doesn't mean it's necessarily bad." If thirty-two years ago Rose had told her she wanted to be a professional baseball player she might have had a heart attack.  
Sarah laughed. She glanced over to the window. It was closed over, but she could see that the gray light was no longer seeping through crack. She would have to be at Ann's soon, but she didn't care now. She wanted to stay with her grandmother. Her grandmother…   
Both grandmother and granddaughter sat still in the room, never moving from their respective seats, but the Earth itself could not spin fast enough to catch up with the thoughts circling in their minds. 


	4. Chapter Four

A long time had passed before Sarah finally got up to leave.   
"I will tell my mother."  
"I'd like that. I wonder if she'll want to see me. After all we put each other through. But I suppose so much time has passed…it doesn't matter anymore."  
Sarah nodded and turned the knob of the door. Then she paused and turned toward Ruth.  
"Once Charlie asked her what happened to her family. Dad has a pretty big one. He was five and he kept insisting that he know where her family was. She broke down in tears…" Sarah paused. "Funny. My father's name isn't his real name either."  
"Oh. It isn't?"  
"My grandfather was born in Poland, moved to England, and when went to America he wanted a job real quick and to live in a better neighborhood, so he gave himself an English name."  
"So what is your name supposed to be?"  
"Meisels. So I guess I should be a DeWitt Bukater-Meisels product instead of a Dawson-Calvert." she laughed.  
"You are your parents' child." She reached up and clasped her hands around the girl's face. "And you are my granddaughter."  
Sarah smiled. "…just out of curiosity…whatever happened to Cal?"  
Ruth sighed. "He married another young women a year or so older than your mother. Had five girls. And then there was a little boy born after he died…the crash was just one more thing the pitiful bastard couldn't take. Shot himself. Youngest found him. The girl I mean. She's about your age now. Doesn't remember a blessed thing. She and her mother come by every now and then. Shy, nervous thing. I don't think I'll forgive him for that either."  
"Oh God." Sarah covered her hand with her mouth.  
"It's alright now."  
"…I'll come by tomorrow. First thing."  
"No, no. Sleep in, get some rest."  
"Okay, okay."  
Ruth sighed with relief. "I feel like something has been lifted, Sarah. Like a great weight has been taken away. I'm excited to see my daughter again. I'm glad to have met you. But now it's as if for the first time since I was a little girl I can relax. I feel calm." Sarah hugged her grandmother. "Time to get going now. You'll be late for your friend."  
"Okay then. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
***  
  
Sarah hurried to Ann's house. Ann and her mother were waiting for her. She was two hours late and soaking wet. They weren't angry with her, mostly worried. After dinner Sarah went to bed, but did not fall asleep soon. She lay awake staring at the ceiling. *It was so cold that night. My mother was there. She was on that thing.*  
"Sarah? Sarah? Hey Calvertstein!"   
Sarah turned to see Ann on the bed across from her.  
"Mmmm?"  
"Are you alright? You've been acting funny." Sarah was quieter than usual. She was not the bright, energetic, if not a little cocky Sarah Calvert she was used to. Sarah had a "think time" before games where she kept to herself and looked to be contemplating something, but this was different.  
"I've got a lot on my mind. It's been one weird day."  
"Tell me tomorrow?"  
"I'll tell you, I promise, but it might take a little longer than tomorrow."  
"Okay, but go to sleep already. You keep tossing and turning. It's annoying the crap outta me." The girls laughed.  
"'Night Ann."  
"'Night Sarah."  
  
***  
  
"Listen. You guys have to come out here right away. Just get on the train and come down here it's really important."  
"Peaches, calm down. What is it?"  
"I can't tell you now. It's too hard." There was a silence on the other end of the telephone. "I'm not pregnant and nobody's dying."  
"I didn't say anything."  
"Exactly."  
"Please, Mom, please. You need to come. Please, please. I can't explain now, but I promise it's not something stupid, but I can't tell you over the phone. Please understand…*please.*"  
"Alright," said the voice sensing the urgency in her daughter's voice, "we'll work something out. It'll be fine."  
"Okay. Call me when you and Dad get everything together. I gotta go now."  
"Okay then. We'll get down there as soon as we can. Hang in there. It'll be okay."  
"Bye Mom."  
"Bye Sarah. I love you, sweetie."  
"I love you too, Mom. Bye."  
"Bye."  
  
***  
  
Sarah took the bus most of the way to the Bukater Mansion. The sun was out today, but it was colder. She decided to dress nice for her grandmother. She wore a navy blue coatdress with a large matching fedora. Stepping off the bus she caught the attention of thirteen year-old boy. He squinted to see her face at first, but it was hidden by her hat. After touching her foot to the ground she looked up, revealing her face.  
The boy still stared at her and smiled timidly at the pretty blond. She smiled back brightly and hurried her way to her grandmother's home.  
Sarah shook her head in disbelief. A day ago this woman had just been some faceless, dead relative. *Everything can happen in a few days. And anything can happen it a matter of seconds.* Her life had changed yesterday. It took less then a day to turn her whole world upside down, but like her mother had done all life Sarah was going to take it as it came at her.  
Sarah thought of how innocent she had been along. She more of a child at twenty-one than her mother had been at seventeen. But she supposed that was how Rose had wanted it. She was not sheltered from the world, but she didn't know such despair as her mother had known.   
She wasn't sure how her mother would react or what would happen when Ruth and Rose saw each other again or if she'd even witness it, but she knew she would make it so. It must happen.   
The house was not quiet as it had been yesterday. There were cars and people outside. Not many, but they were there. It didn't look right.  
"Hey, what's going on here?" Sarah asked the policeman.  
"Oh you shouldn't be here, Miss."  
Sarah pushed him aside and continued. She had to get in that house and find Ruth NOW. "Miss! Miss! You can't go in there!"  
Sarah not turning around to look at him gave him the finger as she walked to porch. She passed Suzanne sitting in an open car and another girl just exiting in the house.  
The girl looked to be about her age, maybe younger. She was so skinny and so pale she couldn't tell. She was shorter than Sarah, black-haired and sad-eyed.   
The other girl's mother called to her. Startled at shrill yell of the mother's voice the girl fell over.  
Sarah helped her to her feet. "You alright?"  
"Fine, fine." said the girl softly.  
"What-?" Sarah tried to question the girl, but she had already run to her mother. Sarah followed her.  
"Who are you?" asked the mother.  
"I'm Sarah Calvert. Please, my grand-" She stopped herself realizing they wouldn't understand.  
The older woman looked at her curiously. Sarah guessed she must have known the "late" Rose DeWitt Bukater.   
"She went quietly." said the woman. "Very peaceful."  
Sarah shook her head frantically. "No no no." she squeaked.  
Sarah turned to see a stretcher with an occupant being wheeled out of the house.  
No. No, this couldn't be happening. She had just met her. This was her grandmother. A day ago she hadn't known her. She saw this woman find a long lost happiness right before her eyes. Only to be gone hours later.  
She felt faint. She felt the blood leave her cheeks and the ground wobble beneath. The ground she stood on seemed to sink beneath her, toppling her as if someone had pulled up a carpet out from under her.  
"No." she sobbed.  
She ran after her grandmother. "No!" She fell to her knees on the cold, wet driveway as the car with Ruth pulled away. "Come back. Come back! COME BACK! COME BACK!" 


End file.
